


Darkest Hour

by Inell



Series: Teeny Fic Challenge [24]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Implied Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Polyamory, Stiles Has Nightmares, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Scott and Jackson might overreact sometimes, but Stiles has to know that they have his best interests in mind





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: I've got a Teeny Fics prompt for you: Stiles/Scott/Jackson.
> 
> The shuffle song for this one made the muse go a bit angsty, but I hope you enjoy it, Nonnie! Teeny Fic #24
> 
> Come on and talk to me now  
> Hey, what you got to hide?  
> I get angry too  
> Well I'm a lot like you  
> When you're standing at the crossroads  
> And don't know which path to choose  
> Let me come along  
> 'cause even if you're wrong
> 
> I'll Stand By You by The Pretenders

 

“So, are we drinking tonight?” Scott asks, looking at the bottles of alcohol that are scattered over the breakfast bar. He’s just got home, so he feels like maybe he’s missed something. That’s really a lot of bottles, after all.

“No, we’re not,” Jackson says firmly, giving Stiles a stubborn look that rivals his own. Scott looks from one of his boyfriends to the other before deciding that he must have come home during a fight.

“ _We_ aren’t, but _I_ am.” Stiles lifts his chin, the nerve in his cheek twitching as he narrows his eyes at Jackson. “Stupid wolves can’t get drunk anyway.”

“I think I take offense to being called stupid.” Scott grins when Stiles looks at him and blinks. Distraction attempt successful. “I mean, I might not have graduated salutatorian like some people, but I’m pretty damn smart.”

“Of course you are.” Stiles studies his face intently for a moment before he looks at Jackson. “It’s other wolves who are stupid and interfering and trying to make mountains out of molehills.”

“This _is_ a mountain, smartass,” Jackson says, motioning at the bottles littering the bar. “How much money did you just spend on booze? For what? So you can get so drunk that it might keep the nightmares away for a night?”

“Fuck you, asshole.” Stiles curls his fingers into his palm, which Scott knows means Jackson got a direct hit with that barb.

“Why don’t we calm down?” Scott suggests, shrugging off his coat and tossing it on the couch. Jackson watches it fall, his jaw clenching as he obviously fights the urge to pick it up and put it where it belongs. Scott finds it pretty adorable that Jackson’s got this need to put everything away, especially since he knows how sloppy he is when it comes to sex.

“I’m not uncalm.” Stiles is gritting his teeth and avoiding Scott’s eyes, which means he’s full of shit. Scott would know that even without the built-in lie detector that’s one of the best benefits to the werewolf thing. Sure, Stiles totally figured out how to lie without detection, but he focuses so hard on the heartbeat thing that he ends up having other tells that Scott can recognize quickly.

“It sucks. I get it,” Jackson blurts out, obviously not heeding Scott’s suggestion. “Last night was awful. It hasn’t been that bad in months. That doesn’t mean you have to run out and booze yourself up in order to make it through tonight. You’re not alone anymore, damn it.”

When Scott hears what Jackson says, he relaxes a little bit because that’s good. It’s true, and it’s coming from a place that Jackson tends to like to pretend doesn’t really exist. Namely, his heart. Scott and Stiles sort of drifted into this relationship after Stiles spent two semesters across the country, and they did the whole long-distance thing successfully once they got their heads out of their asses and realized they loved each other in a romantic, wanna have sex and talk marriage kind of way.

Jackson didn’t enter into things until he showed up in San Francisco doing a residency, of all things, at a hospital where Stiles had gone to accompany one of the agents in his group that got shot during an assignment. Stiles and Jackson have always had sparks, and Scott knows they’d been friends in the sandbox, before Scott moved to Beacon Hills and became Stiles’ best friend, so it hadn’t been too surprising when meeting again had led to a sort of friendship slash sexual tension that Scott didn’t even need his special senses to recognize.

It’s been nearly a year since Scott invited Jackson to dinner and offered to let him join them, calling both of them out on their attraction and totally supporting the idea because Jackson might be an asshole, but he’s hot and he’s devoted to Stiles in a way that Scott really likes. Sure, he and Jackson still share a bit of rivalry, but now it’s balanced with hot sex and emotions they don’t really talk about. Their shared feelings for Stiles have led to them developing something between themselves, too, and Scott likes it. Likes their dynamic with the three of them, and he likes having someone on his side to confront Stiles when he does stupid shit.

The only problem is that Jackson tends to confront in an antagonistic way that leads to fighting and rough sex and then making up later.

Scott doesn’t mind the rough sex, he actually _really_ enjoys watching Stiles fuck Jackson, but he could do without the fighting that usually happens first.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Stiles mutters, shoving Jackson without much force. “You need to shut the fuck up and let me drink in peace, damn it.”

“No.” Jackson glances at Scott, giving him a somewhat annoyed look before focusing on Stiles. “I’ve been there before, and I know what it’s like, and no amount of booze is going to help or make it go away. Only time can do that, and, even then, it never really completely goes away. I still wake up some mornings and see blood on my hands, and I have nightmares, too, and you don’t let me run off and hide my sorrow in risky behavior, so I’m not going to just sit by and watch you do the same.”

“He’s right,” Scott says, realizing that maybe standing around and watching isn’t the best choice this time. He normally stays out of their fights unless he’s pulled into them, but this one isn’t so much a fight, like he originally thought, than a confrontation. “You’re not alone anymore, Stiles. It might have been your coping mechanism back at college to get drunk and ignore the bad shit, but you’re twenty-four now. It’s not healthy to cope using alcohol.”

“Fuck.” Stiles drags his fingers through his hair. “I don’t even drink much, and you both know it. This isn’t some dumb episode of Intervention or something. This is the first time I’ve bought alcohol in years, not counting a drink or two when we go out to bars.”

“We wouldn’t be fucking with you about this if we didn’t care,” Jackson admits, shrugging when Stiles blinks at him. “You had a bad nightmare. So what? We got you through it, and you’re strong enough to handle it without seeking escape in booze. I’m not going to just sit here and watch you start down a path that could hurt you.”

“Oh my God.” Stiles throws his hands up and glares at them both. “You’re both so damn dramatic. It’s just some alcohol. I’m not about to start down any paths, asshole. I love my job, and I don’t think Rafe would appreciate me coming in to work stinking of liquor, so there’s no risk of that.”

“He’d kick your ass if he saw all that,” Scott points out, knowing his dad had his own problems with demons and alcohol that he’s managed to work through in recent years. “If it was just one bottle, we wouldn’t be so worried. That looks like you bought out an entire store, though.”

Stiles looks at the counter, and Scott watches his shoulders slump forward. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the nightmare during work, so I stopped at this place on the way home, and I didn’t know what I wanted. I just…I kept adding shit to the cart, and I just wanted to get the images of you two lying dead and broken out of my head.”

“You don’t need alcohol for that,” Jackson says, exchanging a look with Scott before they both walk over to Stiles. Scott moves behind him, tugging him against his chest and putting his chin on his shoulder while Jackson moves in front of him, blocking the view of the bottles. “You’ve got us.”

“I wasn’t going to drink it all,” Stiles whispers, his voice breaking slightly. “I just wanted to forget for a while.”

“We’ll help you forget, Stiles,” Scott murmurs before kissing his neck. “And we’re a lot better for you than that crap.”

“Way better,” Jackson agrees, flashing an arrogant smile before he drops to his knees. “We’ll take that stuff back for a refund then order in pizza instead.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Scott says, holding Stiles as he leans back and shudders. Of course, Jackson doesn’t answer since his mouth is otherwise occupied now, but Scott knows he appreciates the sentiment. As Stiles starts making the noises that they love hearing from him, Scott nuzzles his neck and keeps his hands busy, doing his part in helping Stiles forget the nightmare he had earlier.


End file.
